Smack. An acorn bounced to the ground.
"Woo! Direct hit!"
"Heh, so that's your plan for today, is it?" Dawn began to turn away, then lunged toward the two attackers.
"Run-run-run-run-RUN—"
"I AM running, Silvan," his companion shouted. "You're the one in trouble!"
"Don't you da—"
"See you!" And Flint zipped off, far outpacing his coconspirator.
Storm grinned—the betrayal was hardly unexpected—and spun, skidding to a stop in a crouch, just in time to meet Dawn charging at him. He dodged easily, and though she whirled around, was able to avoid that strike as well. He ducked and rolled, and came up behind her, hitting her with a backflip-kick and landing on his feet, unlike his opponent. "Surrender?" he suggested cheerfully.
"You win that one," Dawn agreed, wincing as she got to her feet. "All right, everyone, enough playing!" she called in her leader-voice to the other similarly frolicking elves. A little activity was good to warm up for the day's walk.
"Toward the black-rock heights?" Storm guessed. The tribe often went there once it warmed up enough in the spring, to find obsidian for their arrows.
"You read my mind."
"Morning, Storm!" chorused Fox, Pine, Winter, and half the other elves he hadn't greeted yet.
"Morning. Star, bag's unstrapped."
"No it's... rats. Thanks, Storm."
Dawn started them at a slow jog to further get the blood flowing, and Storm wove through the tribe to check in with everyone. "Moon, tired today?"
"She's been tossing and turning every night all week," Fox told him. Moon had trouble sleeping now and then, but her husband was always sympathetic.
"Sorry," said Storm. "See if Rain wants to talk?" Rain was good with sleep-deprived elves.
"Good idea," yawned Moon, who had circles under her eyes.
Storm fell back a little. "Raven."
"Hey."
"You look like you've tussled with a bear, friend."
"I had an interesting night."
"I heard distant screaming at one point."
"Not after that though."
"Nope. You do know the tip of your ear is gone?"
"It'll grow back."
"They always do."
"All as it should be?" Dawn inquired when he returned to the front.
"Nothing out of the ordinary."
. . . . . .
"Stopping?" Storm asked when they reached a nice grassy area many hours later. The heights were still many days off.
"Stopping," confirmed Dawn.
"Stopping!" said Raven, who looked much more intact now except for his missing eartip.
"Stopping," Moon said to Fox.
"Stopping?" Pine wondered, after they'd already stopped.
"Shush," Storm tossed over his shoulder.
"Shush," repeated Raven.
"Shush."
"Shush?"
"Shush!"
"Enough," Dawn warned good-naturedly.
"Enough?"
"Enough!"
"E... nough?"
She glared at them, then rolled her eyes at Storm.
He grinned impishly. "Enough."
She smacked the side of his head. "Everyone eat. We'll go on soon."
"Can't we rest?" Moon complained.
"This is your rest. ...All right, two-hour naptime."
A surprising number of elves cheered.
"Uh-huh." Her head tilted suddenly, and she squinted into the distance. "Did you hear something?"
Multiple elves said no, they did not.
"Hmm. I'll go check it out." Dawn poked Storm. "Keep these idiots in line."
Flint trotted over with Rain. "Something up?"
"Thought I heard something. Get some food, Flint, I'll come in a moment."
"All right."
"Take care," Raven added offhandedly.
. . . . . .
"Moon, let Star through. Fox, you hold her head. Pine, get Rain, now."
"Storm," Winter said shakily.
"Get leaves to make a bed. Star, do you need anything?"
The healer shook her head, lips pursed.
"Flint. Flint, look at me."
The half-human slapped away his hand. Storm grabbed his shoulder anyway.
"You only have a knife. Look at me. You only have. A knife."
"I'll get my bow."
"You'll sit with your grandfather."
"I—"
"Sit with your grandfather."
Flint was shaking beneath his touch, shaking like a dog ready to tear out a throat.
"Flint!" Rain had arrived. "Here. Here."
He buried his face in her shoulder.
"Storm?" This was Moon.
"Get a blanket for Raven. Where's Pine?—there you are. Keep a lookout, make sure Winter doesn't get too far."
"Can do." The muscular elf was the calmest of all except for his wife, and maybe precious Rain.
Storm stepped around Star and the other crouched elves and dropped to his knees at Raven's side.
"I'm fine," said Raven, calmly and alertly. Flint and Rain joined them, the former gripping his wife's hand until her fingers turned white.
"Raven."
"I'm fine."
"Raven."
"What?"
"There's blood coming from your mouth."
A beat. "I think I bit my tongue."
"Here. I've got you." Storm dabbed at his friend's chin with a strip of cloth, then folded it up and handed it to him. "This instead."
Raven bit down obediently.
"Storm," said Star, softly.
"I know, Star. I know." When an elf was staring blankly like that, gasping like that, it wasn't good. "Stroke her ears, Fox, you know how."
The elves next to him were too quiet.
"Storm..."
"I know. Breathe. I know."
It was an trivial move with an unbearable weight, to take a dying elf's hand and lay it in her father's. It was a silent moment of emotions that could never be voiced. It was unimaginable and too familiar to coax her son's hand to her cheek.
Can you feel us? wondered Storm, watching the color fade from her cheeks. What is it like to drift away?
Who will you see on the other side?
Will your mother be there? Raven didn't think so. He'd said so one lonely night. Your husband? He had a wholly different destiny. But you'll have friends. My mother. Mist. My grandparents.
I know the Avari have made a life there. We're too wild to fall in with the Eldar.
I'll bet it's sunny there, and the wild strawberries are never out of season. I'll bet there's plenty of room to run.
And don't worry about us, Dawn.
I'll take care of them.
. . . . . .
"Hawk. Smoke." Storm greeted each of the leaders in turn.
"Storm? Where's...?"
He bowed his head.
"No..."
Murmuring spread through the tribes as they gathered around the Hwenti. It would've been obvious something had happened, from all the soot-smeared faces. From her absence.
Someone started a song. Nothing special, just a lullaby, one of many. A song you sang to ease your loved one to sleep.
Storm just closed his eyes and let the tears come if they wanted to. He'd learned a lot about tears from her, and a lot about grief.
Hawk brushed past the others to Raven, and a few others of the oldest elves followed. They didn't speak, and Raven didn't react to their presence, just gazed up at the sky like he'd been doing a lot the last few days. He was still standing, despite all odds. Normally Storm would've said Raven didn't pay attention to odds, but this time it was more than that. Raven's arm was around Flint's shoulders, holding his grandson close. Flint turned away from the other half-humans who flocked to his side.
Click.
Storm opened his eyes. "Twist."
The Cuind stood beside him for a while, listening in silence as the others sang. "When did you know?"
"That I was...?"
A nod.
"As she died, I promised her I'd look after the tribe. In my head. I didn't think about it until much later." He took a breath. "Did you know?"
"We knew." The Cuind leader shifted. "We talked about you."
"I hear I'm a lot like my grandfather."
"I wouldn't know."
"Hmm. Me neither."
Twist nodded to himself, and Storm jumped when his fellow leader's hand landed on his shoulder. Twist met his gaze for a moment—a long moment—before turning away.
Thank you, friend.
I'm sorry. It was the plan from the beginning.